


The Chosen Guardian

by Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun



Series: The Wind and the Waves [7]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Arguing, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Guthixians, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Quest: The World Wakes, Reconciliation, Sixth Age, features a cave goblin OC originally meant to fill space in the fic but who I now love to bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun/pseuds/Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun
Summary: Traumatised in the aftermath of Guthix's death, Doktin comes to Zanik for help.The help Zanik gives is not something she can deal with right now.





	1. Seeking Help

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after The World Wakes, but a while before the Battle of Lumbridge. This is decidedly Zanik _before_ joining the Godless. Just lowercase g “godless” at this point.

Keldagrim Train Station was empty, save the few dwarves milling about to keep the place running. A ticket inspector gave Doktin a friendly nod in recognition of how she’d helped the railway get built a few years before. Might as well have been centuries.

Then the train was boarded and she was taken away, with miles and miles of tunnels ahead. Dwarven engineering rarely left much room for comfort; Doktin assumed it was the Dorgeshuun she had to thank for the spacious seat and comfortable cushioning. It was a five hour journey – _she’d need it_.

As her exhaustion mingled with the darkness, it wasn’t long before she slept for the first time in well over a day. Her sleep was fitful, but at least it was dreamless.

* * *

“Hello, dear? Wakey wakey!”

It was Tanrel, an old woman that Doktin had seen quite frequently before... and only ever at various marketplaces. Dorgesh-Kaan Market. Draynor Market. Even Rellekka, once the cave goblin had talked the merchants out of ignoring her for being an outerlander (far from an easy task). Seeing Tanrel outside a marketplace was like seeing the sun down at the pub after a long day of hanging in the sky.

“What are you doing here?” asked Doktin, blinking herself awake, failing to realise the obvious answer of _going to Keldagrim, why else would anyone be boarding the train to Keldagrim._

“Just off to buy some funny dwarven knick knacks for the wife, dear,” said Tanrel. “She adores them! If it’s made by dwarves and goes whizz, bang or boom, she loves it, she’ll have twenty!”

Doktin was sure she’d heard Tanrel say the exact same thing about her wife’s taste in gadgets at least five times before. But it was always fun to hear it from her. Tanrel had a skill for making the tiniest of things exciting.

“Poor thing’s too ill to travel at the moment, though,” she continued. “Cooped up in bed with surface flu, all shivery and running a fever! So I’ve got Lurzin keeping an eye on her while she takes a nice nap –much like you’ve just done, dear. Are you alright? It’s not surface flu, is it?” (She transferred her bundle of baskets from both hands to one, then used her free hand to feel the warmth of Doktin’s forehead.) “Oh dear, that is rather warm, isn’t it? Deary me! Yes, it’s bedtime for you at once, young lady. I can have Lurzin look after you too, if you like, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind! Then you can help keep Mekesh company when she wakes up. Oh my, I haven’t yet introduced you to her, have I? I really must do! Bring her a gift of your own, if you can. You adventurers always have something lying around, don’t you? Yes, Mekesh just _loves_ receiving gifts. The way her face lights up like a light orb...!”

This was too many words to handle for someone who’d just woken up. Tanrel’s old lady voice with the Dorgeshuun accent was nice and familiar and comforting though, as was Dorgesh-Kaan's omnipresent musty underground smell. Familiar. She needed familiarity.

Tanrel was feeling her forehead again: “Hmmmm. _Is_ that surface flu heat? Or is it just human heat? I can’t quite tell. Are you feeling alright, Doktin, dear?”

“Haven’t had much sleep,” said Doktin. “Just here to see Zanik.”

"Oh, you poor little mushroom! Well, I'm sure Zanik has a nice big bed you can snuggle up in." (Was that 'you' singular or plural?) "I'm sure you two will have _lots_ of fun together!" (Definitely plural.)

"Thanks, Tanrel," Doktin replied, hauling herself up off the seat and letting Tanrel take her place. She certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of snuggling up in bed with Zanik, but... now wasn't really the time to broach that subject. She just needed to talk to the person who knew her best. "I'll see you some other time."

Tanrel waved her off: "Feel free to stay with Mekesh if Zanik's not home!"

* * *

Out of the train station, into the city. She emerged into the marketplace, almost expecting to see Tanrel again in her native habitat. But no – instead, Doktin could swear half the population of Dorgesh-Kaan was there, chatting and laughing and shopping and perusing and eating and drinking and laughing some more. Eyes were on her. People looking. Everyone knew her as the saviour of their city; they saw her as if she were a native. But still... she was different. And it drew attention. Stares. Cheers which, though well-intended, were beginning to overwhelm her.

A cave goblin in a smart outfit offered her a free sample of fried slugs, swinging a platter right in front of her face. Six slabs of slime, garnished with surface spice and arranged in a classy way; while she was usually up for trying Dorgeshuun cuisine and acquiring their tastes, the smell of this was nauseating. Doktin gestured to decline as politely as she could, then made a break for it, pushing through the people and trying to ignore the chaos that caused.

Up the stairs to the upper levels: she could see across the city from here. It was quieter up here, though the noise of the bustling market still floated up from below. She felt a slight chill, just enough to be uncomfortable, and it was increasingly clear that her sleep on the train hadn't been nearly enough. Zanik's bed was sounding more appealing with every step, regardless of whether it was 'you singular' or 'you plural'.

But what if Zanik _wasn't_ home? Would she take up Tanrel's offer? She didn't even know where her house was! Should she just ask someone on the street, "hi, where does Mekesh live, I know her wife"? Then move in with her for a few days, on the basis of continuously bumping into her wife in marketplaces? Had Tanrel even meant it as an invitation in the first place, or was it merely a social nicety? No, she knew cave goblin culture well enough to know that they didn't usually go for formalities like that, and she knew Tanrel well enough to know that she meant every single word she said, but she still couldn't help but worry that—

Here she was. Zanik's door.

She knocked, and heard Zanik calling out from inside: "Hold on!" She was home! Doktin heard her run down the stairs, saw her fling open the door—

 _"DOKTIN!"_ Zanik threw her arms around Doktin in a big, enthusiastic hug, almost knocking her backwards in the process. Doktin gasped, almost winded, the shock of the sudden greeting affecting her far more than it usually would.

It was immediately clear to Zanik that something was wrong. She took a step back and looked up at her: "Are you okay?" The answer was obvious, but asking for it was what mattered.

Doktin looked at her, saw all the concern in those big goblin eyes. It was an infinite relief to finally see her face again – the beautiful face of someone who genuinely cared. With all she'd been through recently, she was nearly brought to tears.

She spoke with honesty: "I need help."


	2. Chapter 2

She lay back on Zanik's bed, grateful for the comfort it gave. Zanik was sitting beside her on a little toadstool (goblinstool?), listening to Doktin's story.

"There was this green light," she recalled. "For a bit, the green light was everything I could see. I felt it in other ways, too. Everything I could hear, touch, smell, all that. All green."

"How do you _hear_ green?"

Doktin laughed: "I don't know, but that's what it sounded like! Then it faded, but I still felt green. Like it was in me now, like I ran on green instead of air and beer and wall beast fingers."

Leaning forward on her seat, Zanik rested her chin on her hand. "You don't need to eat or drink or breathe any more?"

"Huh? Hmm." Dorgeshuun did tend to be literal-minded, but it was worth considering. "I'll see." Doktin took a big breath and held it, but no – as ever, she found herself having to wheeze out and then gasp air back in again after a minute and a half. "Nah. Still gotta. Shame. If I didn't have to breathe, I could dive and swim underwater, long as I wanted." She took a few moments to imagine it – exploring the ocean floor, unhindered by any equipment. Couldn't happen, it seemed, but she could dream.

"Well, if you still need to eat..." Zanik reached to a nearby shelf for her purse. "Wall beast fingers on me?"

"Aw, yes!" A trace of enthusiasm had returned to her voice. "No amount of green that'll keep me from wall beast fingers."

"Stay there! Get some rest! I'll be back in a bit." With that, she bounded out through the door.

Doktin lay there, staring up at the ceiling. She twitched a finger – green. Took a breath in and out – green. Even just looking around, everything she saw had an undertone of green.

It had to be something of his power. His power resonating in her, even after _that bastard Mahjarrat..._

She couldn't help thinking back on it. The overwhelming tragedy of his scarred world, and the humble man himself in the midst of it all. How he'd look over the memories of his people, his grief still fresh after millennia. The god she'd revered for so long had suddenly become a person. She'd empathised with him, come to admire him, and _then..._

The sound of Zanik re-entering went unnoticed.

"Doktin?"

She just barely registered it as her name.

Zanik continued: "I've got you some fingers..."

As Doktin swam back into reality, she saw her: Zanik was there, a half-eaten frogburger in one hand, one of those disposable moss takeaway bowls in the other. Her brow was tensed, her eyes focused on the dazed human lying in her bed.

"You're crying," she said.

Doktin sat up a little, bringing a finger to her eye – sure enough, there were tears. She sighed. "He told me to forget him..." she said. "I don't think I can. Not after that."

Zanik averted her eyes downward, took a single awkward bite of her burger, then remembered the bowl in her other hand: "You want the fingers?"

"Sure." She sat up fully, pulling up the pillow for a back rest, and tentatively took the bowl Zanik passed her. It felt a little more hot than she could bear to hold, so she placed it in her lap, then grabbed one of the fingers by the bone. Turned it around a bit. Waited for a little of the white fern sauce to drip off it. Took a slight nibble of the meat... and it was nice. Not as tasty as she usually found it. But the taste was a comfort.

"Thanks," she said. "Don't know what I'd do without wall beast fingers." Then, mustering up a little cheekiness: "Or you. I guess."

Zanik laughed, then – "Move over!" – she left her moss-wrapped burger on the bedside table, got up off the toadstool/goblinstool, and clambered into the bed to sit next to Doktin. "A few well-cooked fingers can help with almost anything, can't they?"

"Yeah, fingers can be pretty powerful," Doktin joked, flexing one of her own fingers to demonstrate. Raised eyebrow and a smirk, too, just to drive it home. It got a muffled chuckle out of Zanik... who then shuffled just a little closer. The goblin rested her head against the human's arm; Doktin put the arm around her shoulders in response. They sat there for a while in a companionate silence. As down as Doktin felt, feeling Zanik beside her made things just a little better.

Zanik spoke again: "So, you don't think you can forget him?"

 _Oh, what a way to ruin the mood._ "Do we _have_ to talk about that? It's so nice being here with you, I don't want to be crying like a baby again."

She wriggled out of Doktin's embrace, budging away, then looked her in the eye. "You came here to talk, Doktin. Let's talk."

"Fine." Already she was missing the physical contact, and it frustrated her. "Guthix died. Made me the 'World Guardian' first though. And now the World Guardian is fucking miserable. Is that enough talking for you?" Her breath began to hitch. "Because you make me happy. And you were making me happy before you made me dredge that up again. Can we go back to what we were doing, please?"

"No." Zanik got up. "This won't make you happy, Doktin. You need to sort this out. You can't just brush it off, cuddle for a bit, and instantly make things okay. It doesn't work like that." She straightened her back, standing up sharp. "You said he made you the 'World Guardian'. What does that even _mean?_ "

"It means who gives a shit."

" _Doktin._ "

She sighed in exasperation. "It means I'm a Guardian of Guthix. You know, like Juna. Except I'm not just gonna be guarding a cave. I'm gonna be guarding the whole damn world."

Zanik reeled a little, then grabbed the last bite of her frogburger to help her digest that fact. "Wow," she said. "He expected you to guard the world on your own? There's no way you'll be doing all that."

"What? No, I will be."

" _What?_ All on your own? You can't!"

"It was his dying wish, Zanik," she said, shocked to be getting this response. "Do you expect me to put it to waste? What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I don't know –" Zanik gave an exaggerated shrug – "someone who doesn't just do something because a god tells them to? Did you even get a choice in the matter?"

Doktin was silent, not wanting to remember.

"You didn't, did you?"

Silence.

Zanik threw her hands up in frustration: "I don't understand you! A god's just decided you'll be doing this. And it's not something you can possibly do. No, don't give me that look, you can't protect the whole world on your own! And definitely not the way you are now! I'm saying, _isn't this what we fought against?_ " Doktin was staring, open-mouthed, but Zanik continued: "Guthix made you his 'World Guardian', Bandos made me his 'Chosen Commander'—"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Doktin got up from the bed; the movement knocked her bowl onto the floor, but she ignored it. "Don't you _dare_ compare Guthix to that tyrant! Guthix was a good, caring person, nothing like that bloodthirsty bully!"

"A good person, but he's forcing you to do something you can't do?" Zanik rolled her eyes and shook her head.

The World Guardian took a single step towards the defiant Dorgeshuun. "You have _no idea_ who you're talking about. I walked with him in his dying moments. I watched him lie down on his deathbed. I knew him, and you never will, and you think you can tell me what he's like?" Tears began to form even through her anger.

"You are _just_ like Juna," said Zanik, seething. "Guthix couldn't ever be anything other than perfect, could he? No, of course not! You refuse to acknowledge he could ever do anything wrong—"

Doktin shoved past Zanik to the door, opened it, and looked back at her one last time: "Here I was thinking you'd help."

With that, she slammed the door.


	3. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written entirely on a plane, and I'm posting this at the airport. Greetings from Reykjavik!

Doktin ran a few fingertips along Juna's scales, noting the slight bumping as her hand slid along. The smoothness soothed her.

"The times to come will not be easy," said Juna, voice sibilant yet soft. "When Guthix came here after banishing the gods, I was distraught. It pained me to see him in such anguish, and I feared for what had become of the world to cause it. Then he left me once more, so that we both could do our duties for the sake of the world. It was necessary, I know it was. But seeing him leave was a greater torment than seeing his tears. This being of such perfect balance had returned to me at last, so briefly... and then he was gone."

"Wasn't _gone_ gone back then, though," Doktin said, curled among Juna's coils.

"No..." The ancient snake dipped her head low. "You told me of how you walked with him, through his memories in his final moments... that was very much the Guthix I knew. He walked with such humble grace, barely leaving a footprint on this fragile world. And yet the world weeps for his loss."

In the cavern behind her, tears flowed.

Light creatures twinkled in the chasm; Doktin watched them in their dance. They seemed content to simply glitter in the dark, floating with such serenity even when the world was filled with sorrow.

Juna continued. "Life without Guthix is hard enough when all that I guard is this cavern. I cannot imagine how hard it will be when guarding the entire world, with the gods already returning to this plane. But from what I have seen and from what I have heard, you are a truly capable guardian. I know Guthix made the right choice with you."

"I don't know..." Doktin said, tracing the edges of Juna's scales.

Juna curled round to face the young Guardian in her coils. "Guthix saved me from my dying world," she said, her head held steady. "Often, I wondered if I was not worth it. But over time, I came to trust. I trust his judgement, that I was worthy of life on his perfect planet. Perhaps, one day, you will trust that he was right in choosing you. You will know yourself as the worthy World Guardian you are."

Doktin gave a slow nod. "One day..."

The light creatures shone on, suspended in the air. Their cyan glow breathed, growing and dimming, upon the cavern's walls. Doktin remembered: the first time she had seen Juna, she had proven herself by merging with one of the light creatures. Her sapphire lantern lighting beams into the dark, a creature had come to her and she had merged, _become_ light, lighter than air and brighter than the sun and filled with indescribable peace. She had to try that again sometime.

Zanik had done that too. She'd told Doktin all about it, and had been surprised to hear they'd both done the same. Two young, inquisitive minds, eager to adventure and explore. Juna had seen potential in them both.

But that had been years ago; Doktin had only recently passed her Trials, Zanik had barely just entered adulthood, and so much had happened since. Zanik's defiance of her destiny had taken her out of Juna's favour, and now Doktin lay with Juna alone.

She began to think: she couldn't agree with Juna on simply giving in to Bandos, but she couldn't agree with Zanik on abandoning her World Guardian duties. The once "Chosen Commander" had come off as so naive in their argument, so infuriatingly narrow-minded. Perhaps she was best kept in Doktin's past. Zanik could be whoever she wanted. Doktin was the World Guardian now.

A beam of light...

There was Zanik and a light creature as one, crossing the chasm once more. The light and her body mingled and shone, weightless, their gliding motion effortless.

They reached solid ground; they glowed, and Zanik emerged. The light creature drifted back to darkness.

"So," said Zanik, her lantern-lit figure alone at the rift's edge. "Am I worth talking to?"

Doktin felt Juna's mass of scales slide and shift under her as she turned to face the newcomer. She spoke: "Zanik... I am sorry."

Both Zanik and Doktin were taken aback.

Juna continued: "When I shunned you for your actions, I was stubborn and misguided. I thought serving a god was the highest calling one could be given; you denied it, and I thought you a fool. But that has changed. Through Doktin, I have come to remember Guthix as he was, wanting to protect this plane from the gods who would defile it." She bowed her head, her eye ridges low over her eyes. "I am sorry, Zanik. In fighting against a god's designs on this world, perhaps you were a better follower of Guthix than I was. I lament that it took his death for me to realise."

Zanik stared. She seemed a few times as if she was going to begin talking, but remained silent. Finally, she spoke, and all she said was "thank you".

Juna nodded, accepting this. "If you forgive me, perhaps we could be friends once more. I have sorely missed hearing your stories."

Zanik gave a soft smile, and went to sit down on Juna's scaled body, resting her back against the coils a little below where Doktin lay. "Maybe we can. I certainly have stories to tell."

Neither Zanik nor Doktin was quite acknowledging the other; they simply remained where they were, with the vast Guardian of Guthix between them. 

Juna broke the silence: "Zanik, do you know of Doktin's new role?"

Zanik sighed. "Yes. And she can't do it!"

"Not alone," said Juna. "She will defend this world against gods, just as the two of you did against Bandos. I'm inclined to say that your experience will be useful here."

Rolling her head back against Juna, Zanik gave her answer: "You know I don't like 'destiny'. I don't want this to be something Doktin has to do. If she does it, I want it to be because she _wants_ to."

"I do," Doktin said. "Guthix told me..." She grasped back in her mind for his exact words, and cursed that she could not remember. "He told me that a god shouldn't be the one protecting this world from gods. It has to be mortals protecting ourselves."

Zanik nodded. "I can agree with that. Alright." Doktin's hand was resting on Juna's scales; Zanik placed her hand on top. "I can't say I'll help all the time. I've got my own life to live. But when Doktin needs me..." She looked into her eyes, steadfast. "I will."

Sitting up slightly to face her properly, Doktin placed her other hand on top of Zanik's. She smiled at her, tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you, Zanik. Thank you."


End file.
